


Just A Guy Thing

by Kahvi



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Trans Bucky Barnes, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-11
Updated: 2018-09-11
Packaged: 2019-07-11 05:56:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15966104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kahvi/pseuds/Kahvi
Summary: Steve often wonders why Bucky bothers with him. After all, Bucky is the better man.





	Just A Guy Thing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Roadstergal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roadstergal/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Just One Of The Guys](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15963470) by [Roadstergal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roadstergal/pseuds/Roadstergal). 



"Go talk to her. She's been looking at you all night." Steve tried not to stare, or at least, tried not to stare in exactly the same way that dark-haired girl was staring at Bucky. He tried not to drink too much, but the problem with being Steve - one of the myriad problems, this being the more prominent at the time - was that any amount of drink was too much. He'd tried to nurse his beer carefully, but Bucky was knocking them back like they were lemonade on a hot summer's day, which made Steve think about Bucky topless on a hot summer's day, which, in turn, made him desperately need a drink.  
  
Not to put too fine a point on it, Steve was drunk.  
  
Bucky shook his head and gave him that grin that made Steve want another drink; the sort of sideways one where he tilted his head, and his teeth showed, and his eyes shone.  
  
"You're impossible. You know that? She's looking at you, hot stuff."  
  
Steve glanced back over. Well, she was gorgeous enough. Big, soulful dark eyes under long, lazy lashes, expressive lips, and neatly styled hair. Honestly, it was hard to tell, if you were only going by the way her head was turned, and where her eyes were set, but then you had the inescapable fact of who the two potential targets were. And that's where Bucky's theory fell apart, of course. "Why would she be looking at me?"  
  
"Because," Bucky spluttered, his beer nearly spilling as he gestured, enthusiastically, "you're sweet and shy and pretty as a peach, with bedroom baby blue eyes bigger than your head. And you don't make too much of yourself. Girls," he added with confidence Steve would die for, "love that."  
  
Steve must still look as doubtful as he felt, because Bucky clasped an arm around him and leaned in close, and Steve's breath caught enough that he almost started coughing.  
  
"Go on. Go talk to her. What's the worst thing that could happen?"  
  
The worst thing that could happen, Steve knew, was that she'd take him outside, and pull him into an alley and make like she wanted to kiss him, and then he'd lean up and look into her dark brown eyes, and she'd laugh, and her boyfriend who'd been hanging out outside would come over with his buddies and, at best, laugh at him. At worst... his ribs still ached from the first and last time Steve would ever fall for that. "I don't feel like it," Steve mumbled.  
  
"Oh my god." Bucky's jaw dropped. "You're still thinking about what happened up in Bushwick. Steve, that was six months ago." When Steve just shrugged, Bucky drew back, shook his head, then downed the rest of his beer in one, long pull. "Come on," he said. "We're going back to mine." 

 

* * *

 

 

"I wish you'd stop doing that", Steve muttered as they walked along, Steve half running to keep up with Bucky's long strides. His legs were like an athletes, long and sleek, muscles showing through his trousers, where they were a little too tight around the shins. And this was not a helpful line of thinking. Steve sighed. 

"Doing what?"

"You know. Trying to get me laid." He swallowed the last word, glancing around, but Bucky heard, and laughed. 

"Why? God knows you need it. Put some hair on your chest. Maybe you'd start letting your guard down a little." He smiled, his coat over his arm in the mild September evening, and all Steve could think was, _I wish I could kiss you. Right here, outside your house, where they'd arrest me if anyone caught me doing it_. "What?" Bucky frowned. 

And all of a sudden, it was too much. The perfect night and the perfect man, and the perfect moment, and then Steve, to ruin it all. He drew himself up, squared what little shoulders he had, and yelled as hard as his tortured lungs would let him. "It's so easy for you! You don't get it! Women don't laugh at you; _people_ don't laugh at you! They see you, and they come home with you, and it's just fun and easy! Well, it's not, for me." He paused to draw a breath, and Bucky's face was unreadable. All he said was:

"You need a proper drink."

And Steve followed him in. He'd follow Bucky anywhere.

 

* * *

 

 

"Here." Bucky slid the glass across the table. "Drink it." He waved at Steve until he did as he was told. The glass felt bigger than his hand, but Steve obeyed. The whiskey was cheap and rough on his throat, but Steve was too distracted by Bucky's shirt tails and mournful eyes to care. "There's something I need to tell you."  
  
"What?" Steve looked up at him. _Lips like pillows_ , he thought. Soft. Something to rest your head on.  
  
"Hell with it. I'll just show you." He stood up, pulling his suspenders off, and Steve stood up, nearly stumbling backwards over his hair.  
  
"Woah! No!" He waved a hand, and Bucky froze, one elastic strap half-way over his shoulder. "Jesus, no! Not like that; you don't have to show me. I know." He breathed.  
  
For a moment, they just stood there; Steve panting, Bucky looking like someone had just thrown a bucket of ice-water over him. "You know? How could you... have you been going through my things?"  
  
"No! Of course not. I..." Steve stuck his hands in his pockets, feeling ashamed. "I saw you changing. When we went swimming."  
"That was two years ago."  
  
"Yeah." So?  
  
"And..." Bucky's mind was clearly working. He slumped back into the chair, pouring himself a good measure of whiskey, and drinking it right down. "And you still think I have an easy time of it? With women? With everything?"  
  
"Yes, because you do!"  
  
"Steve," he said, enunciating carefully, "I have breasts. I don't have a dick."  
  
"And you still bring women home like it was nothing! Do you think it's my _body_ that's holding me back? Bucky, I could be one of those Adventure Comics muscle men, and I'd still be just as hopeless. I could be six foot two with abs of steel, and I'd still struggle to find the right words. I could be sitting right across from the love of my life, and I wouldn't have the balls to do anything about it." He swallowed, walking backwards out the door. "You're a better man than me."  
  
He was halfway down the block before he started wondering what Bucky might have answered. No matter. They'd never mention it again.


End file.
